


Tiebreaker

by MyrddinDerwydd



Series: Rhyver Shepard [5]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Alien Sex, Alien/Human Relationships, Awkward First Times, F/M, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Garrus POV, Love Bites, Oral Sex, Scars, Sleeping Together, Smut, Turians, Vaginal Sex, Xenophilia, subharmonics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:15:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24448717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyrddinDerwydd/pseuds/MyrddinDerwydd
Summary: Every Garrusmancer has their version of what happens as a result of the "Tiebreaker" conversation & before the Omega 4 Relay... Is there a romp in bed? Is it just sex?! Is it love?!
Relationships: Female Shepard & Garrus Vakarian, Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian, Garrus Vakarian & Tali'Zorah nar Rayya, Shepard & Tali'Zorah nar Rayya
Series: Rhyver Shepard [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1254578
Comments: 18
Kudos: 85





	1. Best Laid Plans

**Author's Note:**

> _Cantica & lubentia_ are fandom/head canon terms for the turians' emotion-laden subvocals and a highly sensitive location beneath their fringe, respectively. Credit for lubentia goes to Barbex, though I believe cantica (which means song) may be my own creation.

**Garrus had loved Rhyver Shepard for a long time.**

**He didn’t think of it that way until recently; not until a thousand little things slammed him in the face with the truth.  
It wasn’t romance and it wasn’t lust, and he honestly wasn’t sure how it fit together with the two, but it was definitely love. **

* * *

_[Estimated run time: 27 GSM]_

“Hmmmm…that is _not_ a good sign.” Garrus let the low, grating hum of dissatisfaction resonate through his chest. It wasn’t as though anyone was around to hear it, except the cannons. Now what? He had 27 minutes until the diagnostic for the reload timing was complete, which meant that he should… Nothing. 

Garrus sighed, subvocals flaring with anxiety as he crossed his arms. He tapped on his omni-tool, checking for messages from Solona and his father, but the only item was a dirty limerick from Joker about sticks in asses. Humans certainly had some convoluted ideas about that particular orifice. It went into a personal file box labeled ‘Weird Shit’ that he’d had since boot camp.

_[Estimated run time: 26 GSM]_

He leaned on the console, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Maybe he should go talk to Kasumi about her cloaking technology. He'd like to compare it with the Hierarchy’s version if she’d share the performance stats. The door behind him slid open with a quiet swish. 

“Hi Garrus,” Shepard strode into the main battery with that half smile he’d grown to love so much. Black stars, did he really just think that? The Normandy’s commander, a Spectre, and the Hero of the Citadel walks through the door and his first thought was ‘I love her smile’?! He stifled an embarrassed whistle in his _cantica_ that Shepard would most certainly have noticed, human or not.

“Shepard.” Garrus dipped his head to her in greeting, _cantica_ immediately resonating with a quiet hum of contentment. “Need me for something?”

There was a lot of history between him and Shepard, running all the way back to C-Sec on the Citadel, through a few dozen Prothean-fueled nightmares, to a wrecked Council chamber… and ending in a shattered ship that he’d take another rocket to the face to undo. 

“Got a minute?” Shepard asked. 

Garrus flicked his eyes to the console. 

_[Estimated run time: 25 GSM]_

“Sure, I’m just killing time anyway.” He leaned his hip against the railing, crossing one ankle over the other, which made the spurs on the back of his legs touch. “I wanted to thank you again for your help with Sidonis. Whatever else happens with the Collectors or the Reapers, I know you’ll get the job done.”

“I couldn’t do all of this without you, Garrus.” Shepard rolled her lean shoulders and crossed one arm behind her back, gripping the opposite forearm. 

“Sure you could.” An edge of worry crept into his _cantica_. She did that when she was tired. Stressed. “Not as stylishly, of course.” Garrus shrugged his own shoulders, armored in the stony grey armor she had acquired to replace his shattered set of Palaven Blues. 

Shepard hummed noncommittally, brown eyes flicking around the room as she meandered to her usual seat on the storage bulkhead along the wall. There was a section of hair out of place from the dome-shaped bun on her head, the dark brown curve flattening into the wall as she leaned back. 

He knew why she was stressed.

“It’s strange going into a suicide mission on a human ship. Your people don’t prepare for high-risk operations the way turians do.” Humans and turians did many things differently, but that wasn’t the point. 

“So how do turian crews get ready for missions like this?”

“With violence, usually. Turian ships have more operational discipline than your Alliance, but fewer personal restrictions.” Garrus shook his head. “Our commanders run us tight, and they know we need to blow off steam. Turian ships have training rooms for exercise, combat sims, even full-contact sparring.” His bandaged jaw ached at the thought of sparring with the adrenaline-hyped infantry of the last Hierarchy posting he’d held, nearly a decade ago. “Whatever lets people work off stress.” 

Shepard’s tired face blossomed into a broad, skeptical grin. “You’re telling me turian tight-asses have crewmen fighting each other before a mission?” 

“It’s supervised, of course.” What was it with humans and asses? “Nobody is going to risk an injury that interferes with the mission. And it’s a good way to settle grudges amicably.” 

The short laugh Shepard chuffed sounded almost turian, and it reminded him of one of his most memorable ‘grudges’ back on the _PFS Havincaw._

“I remember right before one mission,” Garrus began pacing between the console and the door. “We were about to hit a batarian pirate squad. Very risky.” He glanced at Shepard, who was tracking him, half smile back in place. A thrill of excitement rolled through his chest, _cantica_ flaring at the thought of that day. “This recon scout and I had been at each other’s throats. Nerves, mostly. She suggested we settle it in the ring.” 

“I assume you took her down gently?” Shepard asked, raising one dark brown eyebrow.

“Actually, she and I were the top-ranked hand-to-hand specialists on the ship. I had reach but… she had flexibility.” 

“It was brutal.” He paced back toward the door, mandibles flaring in appreciation. “After nine rounds, the judge called it a draw. There were a lot of unhappy betters in the training room.” 

Garrus looked out over the Normandy’s crew in the mess hall, eating and going about their regular duties as if it were any other day. Not as though their entire mission was on a knife’s edge. Not as though they had been planning for the impossible for weeks. 

“We, ah, ended up holding a tiebreaker in her quarters,” Garrus continued, cocky pride and amusement mixing into the chorus rumbling through his _cantica_. “... I had reach, but she had flexibility.” He turned back toward Shepard, away from the mundane scene in the galley. “More than one way to work off stress, I guess.” 

Shit. He was _not_ expecting the sheer intensity of the look Shepard was giving him. It felt like being on the wrong end of a sniper’s scope as she stood, crossing lean scarred arms and pacing toward him. 

“Sounds like you’re carrying some tension there, Vakarian. Maybe I could help you with that.” 

Shepard tilted her head, baring her neck in a way that would have been a very deliberate invitation from another turian. On her, it was unfamiliar enough to quiet his _cantica_ to an uncertain halt. He went with the simple answer, the one that actually made sense, even accounting for the close partnership they had.

“I, ah, didn’t think you’d feel like sparring, Commander.” 

“Oh? Don’t want to see who bets on me?” She paused, cocking her hips to one side, leaning against the battery railing beside his console.

Garrus tapped two long fingers on his bandages, flicking the opposite mandible in a wry smile. “Don’t want to make excuses for why you’ve beaten me.” Well great. Could she beat him? No, surely not without her biotics. Hmm. That intent brown gaze was still pinning him in place though, eyes searching his. 

“Another time, then.” She shrugged one shoulder, black work shirt tight on her arms. “Or, we could skip to the tiebreaker? We could test your reach… and my flexibility.” 

“Oh!” Garrus blinked. “I didn’t…”

In a heartbeat, the relationship that was ‘No Shepard without Vakarian,’ the reliable armor of their battle dance, the comforting song of a rare person who _knew_ how much he trusted them, just… shifted. 

“Huh. Never knew you had a weakness for men with scars.” Suddenly her bared neck _was_ an invitation, and ohh, that posture _did_ emphasize the curve of her waist… Wow. He found himself thoroughly aroused by the idea. “Well, why the hell not?” 

Garrus turned away, thoughts racing, _cantica_ running up a thrill of excitement at the thought of having sex with someone he truly trusted. “There’s nobody in this galaxy I respect more than you.” Garrus turned back almost immediately, meeting Shepard’s gaze. “If we can find a way to make it work,” he drawled, “ then… yeah. Definitely.” 

Shepard pushed off the railing, sauntering toward him as though she intended to test the idea right here, right now. Black night, that was sexy. He read her movements here as easily as on the battlefield though, turning aside to let her pass without breaking eye contact for even a breath. She was close enough he could smell her scent, sun-warmed stone and… gun oil, at the moment. 

Then Shepard was through the doorway, and Garrus was staring after her with a chorus emotions vibrating under his voice. 

A message flickered on his omni-tool.

_[Estimated Run Time: 20 GSM]_

Great... He had 20 minutes to consider the mischievous look of desire on Shepard’s face as she challenged him to ‘skip to the tiebreaker.’ 

\---

Two days of Relay hopping and shooting mercenaries had given Garrus’s meticulous sniper’s mind time to consider precisely how complicated blowing off steam with Shepard really was. Spirits, they’d talked about this before, back when he’d first started sharing a bed with her regularly to help with the nightmares. Her trust had been implicit then, her wandering hands curious and uninformed - nothing more. They were friends, and that brutally honest cross-species friendship became one of the best mentorships and closest partnerships he had ever known. It had never been sexual or romantic. He had rarely even considered interspecies sex at all, no less as something he might actually… do. With a human. With Shepard. 

So when Shepard showed up at his console again, he closed the door behind her. Shepard’s eyes flicked back briefly before focusing on him.

“I’ve been thinking about what we talked about.” Garrus ruthlessly quashed the nervous whine creeping into his _cantica._ “Blowing off steam, easing tension.” He then managed to ramble like an awkward fledgling for a full minute, eventually blurting out his real concern: Did she really want this, or had it been a casual jest?

“I want you, Garrus. I want someone I can trust.” Shepard's voice was even, confident and… sultry. 

Black night… he took in a sharp breath, twin shocks of pride and libido racing through him. His thoughts raced while words thankfully came out of his mouth, watching a slow smile spread across Shepard’s face. 

“...horrible, inter-species awkwardness thing.” 

Shepard chuffed a laugh at that, somehow nodding an affirmation with her whole body, which was… It was impressive how quickly he had started having distracted thoughts about her when they weren’t on the battlefield. Had he just rambled something about the Collectors? Spirits save him from himself.

Shepard stepped closer and he noticed that she smelled like the medbay antiseptic instead of gun oil, which made him worry for a heartbeat, until her hand landed on his chest, beside the curve of his crest. 

“Garrus, if you’re not comfortable with this, it’s okay.” She leaned into the gesture just enough that he felt it through his armor. “I’m not trying to pressure you.” 

“Rhyver, you’re about the only friend I’ve got left in this screwed-up galaxy. I’m not going to pretend I’ve got a fetish for humans...but this isn’t about that.” The bare truth came out easier than he would have expected. “This is about us.” That was good, much better than rambling. He still didn’t deserve a friend like the Commander, but he’d be damned if he’d let go of their relationship easily. The fierce, passionate chord of that sentiment rippled through his voice, _cantica_ resonating down through his keel. Shepard flicked her eyes to his chest, a reminder that she could feel and hear both his voices now thanks to Mordin’s creative cybernetic engineering, which extended her hearing through the range of a turian. 

Garrus leaned into her hand on his chest, voice soft and intense. “You don’t ever have to worry about making me uncomfortable. Nervous, yes…” He chuffed out a soft laugh, and Shepard’s eyes were full of mischief when they met his, “but never uncomfortable.” 

It was impressive how quickly he swaggered back into practical, rambling plans for their rendezvous. Damn, he was lucky Shepard appreciated his odd, sniper’s-black sense of humor, because that comment about popping heat sinks had really launched itself off a cliff. 

"Right…” Garrus drawled, watching Shepard stalk backward through the door. “ ‘Cause I’m in a great place to optimize firing algorithms right now.”

Did she just wink at him? Damn.


	2. In Bed

**Garrus hadn’t really known what desire looked like on Shepard until she suggested they “skip to the tiebreaker.” Adding sex to their relationship was hilarious, and tender, and something that finally went right in his messed up life. It was a missing piece that didn’t have to be there - but it fit in perfectly.**

**He had loved the first human spectre for a long time, and he could never quite keep it from his voice.**

* * *

Garrus wiped a smudge of grease off the back of his glove and snapped the electrical panel shut. He carefully worked his long, angular frame out from beneath the starboard propellant chamber in the main battery, keelbone brushing against the metal cylinder. The black sleeve of his underarmor was all that covered his torso, as the bulk of his armor doubled the size of his chest.

Folding his long legs and making his way to the control console, he ran through the systems of the prototype Thanix cannon in his mind, piece by piece. Orange and blue lights played over his hands as he typed familiar commands into the unit, and he let out his breath in a huff at the results displayed on the screen. Acceleration rates at 111% of original... Electromagnetic field fluctuations controlled within 2%... The core of liquid iron-uranium-tungsten alloy was being maintained at a perfect 2158.3°, though it took much higher temperatures to melt the tungsten initially. 

“Damn. Thanix ol’ girl, you’re actually calibrated.” Pride rang through his subharmonics at the irony of a job well done.

Joker’s quick, snarky voice sounded over the speakers, following the low double ping of a ship-wide broadcast. “Attention everyone, we’re on final approach to the Omega 4 Relay. The Reaper IFF is online and appears to be functioning normally, whatever that means. I’ve plotted a course for the relay, and ETA is about 2 hours. Even with all of the upgrades you and the Commander have made to the Normandy, EDI still calculates a chance that the ship might not survive the trip. Or if she does, we might face heavy resistance on the other side.” Joker paused. “Do whatever you need to do so that we’re ready for all options. It’s been an honor. Joker out.” 

Garrus’s mind immediately jumped - not to the oncoming battle, or their missing crew - but to Shepard, and the promise they’d made a week ago. Only once had he slept in her cabin since they’d discussed blowing off steam together, and they had been so exhausted from the chaotic fight through the mines on Zorya with 'Mercenary Massani’ that he had barely considered the alternatives. 

Keying the console into standby mode, Garrus picked up the pieces of his armor. Tucking the sleeves and armored gloves inside the cavity of his chestplate, he headed out through the kitchens. His _cantica_ flared in contentment and excitement when he saw Shepard talking with Tali near the lift. 

“She’ll be fine, Tali.” Shepard was saying as he approached. “Liara is older than both of us combined, with more political savvy than three of me.” 

Tali’s laugh sounded a bit forced, and he unconsciously trilled his affection for them both as Shepard wrapped Tali in a hug. She caught his eyes with a worried smile over the quarian’s shoulder, and he dropped a comforting hand on Tali’s back as well. 

“Shepard’s right, Liara will have half the galaxy at her beck and call when we get back, and we can throw a party on that giant hulking ship of hers.” 

“You think she will let us?” Tali’s laugh sounded a bit more genuine this time, and she stepped back from Shepard. She often reminded him of his sister Solona - stubborn and always worried. 

“If you want, there’s some turian chocolate on my shelf.” Garrus’s mandibles flared in a grin. “You’ll enjoy it more than I will.” 

“Thanks, Garrus. I… think I’ll go send a few messages back to the fleet.” Tali sighed. “Maybe talk with Kasumi for a bit.” She headed toward the cupboards.

Was it possible for your own _cantica_ to catch you off guard? Apparently so, because his subharmonics flared into a low, lusty growl that vibrated through his chest. It was entirely inappropriate in public, but Shepard’s hand was riding down the curve of his very unarmored, highly sensitive waist. A mischievous smile played over Shepard’s lips, and he pinned her with an intense look, head tilted down to show off the length of his fringe. Ratcheting his voice under control took an effort, and Tali turned back from the kitchen at the sounds.

“Oh my.” Tali waved a long graceful hand at them, making a shooing motion toward the lift. “You two go have fun somewhere else! We’ll save the galaxy soon enough.” 

If he had any remaining doubts that Shepard was still considering their crazy idea, they were gone now. 

“10 minutes?” Shepard asked quietly, hand trailing down the curve of armor over his hip. 

“Done,” Garrus growled. 

His uncertainty had flickered back to life by the time he had changed into the single set of civilian clothes he had. The bottle of dural-chirality wine he retrieved from his footlocker in the hollowly empty crew quarters seemed sadly inadequate for someone as incredible as Commander Rhyver Tam Shepard.

He ran through plans in his head. Drinks and music were in at least half the vids, and he knew Shepard’s cabin had a stereo control. Dancing? Maybe. At least the wine counted as a gift, right? Compliments… “You look beautiful” was as generic a compliment as they come, but damned if he still didn’t know what was appropriate for a human. Her hair was long, but was that a good thing? 

Clicking the lid into place, Garrus shook himself. This was just supposed to be two good friends having sex to relax before a dangerous mission, not a dramatic romance holo. Right? Yeah. Uh huh. He tried to suppress the nervous whine that had crept into his _cantica_ and headed back to the elevator. It had been seven minutes. 

Ten seconds after he pressed the button he was in the space between the lift and the Captain’s Cabin, tapping his carefully blunted talons on the hard silicate bottle. He paced to the door, then stopped. Hmm. Should he knock early? So many things had gone haywire in his life, and he did not want this to be one of them. He had one chance - one - for this to go right. 

A deep breath, and he let it out in a huff. Garrus touched Shepard’s door, which slid open immediately. Of course it did. It was keyed to his omni-tool, because that’s just how Rhyver was. He stepped inside, and she walked out of the bathroom just as the door swished closed behind him. 

Shepard was… wow. He really should have waited the two minutes outside. She ran her slender, many-fingered hands through her damp hair, which hung down well below her shoulders in a loose, deep brown curtain. His grip tightened on the bottle, harmonics flaring with the desire to do the same. Her hair was so damned flexible, and he wanted to-- 

“Hey. I brought wine,” he blurted out as Shepard turned to see him standing awkwardly in the entryway. “Best I could afford on a vigilante’s salary.” 

Crossing her arms over her stomach, Shepard smirked and leaned against the wall, which pulled the soft black fabric of her tunic tight across her chest and emphasized her bare arms. Her muscled shoulders were crisscrossed with the faintly glowing orange scars of her reconstruction. 

Right. Plans. Music? He strode forward to the secondary controls near her desk and keyed up a bright dance beat from Afterlife. The sound bounced enthusiastically through the room, covering the lust, nerves, and excitement in his voice.

Garrus spread his hands wide in invitation to Shepard, but she just shook her head with a smile. She was a notoriously awkward dancer, so he wasn’t too surprised to be left standing by the fish tank. The distance gave him the opportunity to notice what she was wearing, and his tongue tied itself in knots at the sight. 

The long black garment was snug to the waist, flaring loosely over her hips. It only halfway covered her legs, leaving her calves and feet completely bare. How would those smooth, naked legs feel, wrapped around his? 

“If you were a turian, I’d be complimenting you on your fringe,” he rambled, still staring at her feet. “So… your, uh, hair looks good.” He snapped his gaze up to meet hers. “And your waist is… very supportive.” His eyes caught on the wide black tie holding the tunic close around her waist. 

“Supportive?” Shepard’s smile widened, and he shifted uncertainly.

“Hopefully that isn’t offensive in human culture…”

“Whoa, Garrus!” she interrupted warmly, voice dropping to the same teasing, sultry tone she’d used the day they first discussed blowing off steam together. “Consider me seduced, smooth talker. Now stop worrying!” 

The inviting tilt of her head should have set him at ease, but he stayed rooted in place as she keyed the music off. She stepped in front of him, standing close. 

“I’ve just… I’ve just seen so many things go wrong, Shepard. My work at C-Sec, what happened with Sidonis…” He fluttered his mandibles uncertainly, trying to read Shepard’s expression. “I want something to go right. Just once. Just…” Cool, slender fingers wove between his three, and he keened at her touch on his bare hide. She slid her free hand slowly along the scarred side of his face, a soft smile playing over her lips. 

The gentle caress was all it took for Garrus to let go of his nervous control, and he bent his head to meet hers. He pressed his forehead against her own, and she closed her eyes. Garrus matched her, subharmonics rolling freely in delight, his chest vibrating with a chorus of emotions. It was a deeply personal gesture, to touch your face to another's, and he soaked in the feeling.

The bottle left his hand as Shepard took it, then slid her hand from his cheek down along the back of his neck. He growled audibly, rocking toward Shepard and finally reaching out to wrap his hands around her ‘supportive’ waist. Spirits, it was always startling how easily he could feel the muscles underneath her skin. She stepped back, drawing him with her. 

Nose pressed against his, Shepard’s nimble fingers traced the edges of his neck plates at the base of his cowl. Arousal raced through his blood like a strong drink, and he boldly nibbled at Shepard’s lower lip. The sudden stop as her legs hit the edge of the couch caught him completely off guard, and only a warrior’s instincts kept him from landing on her fully. 

“Shepard, ahh, sorry. I got carried away…” he trailed off, mandibles snapping tight in embarrassment. For the positive, he was now half-straddling her in a not-unpleasant manner, and she was smiling. 

“Oh? And who did the carrying?” Shepard quipped. The wine clinked as she set it down, dropping the bottle gently over the edge of the couch. She took advantage of her free hands by loosening his collar, sliding her hands around the arc of his cowl underneath the stretchy fabric. 

He leaned into the touch with a soft groan and saw that Shepard’s hair was spread out in a wide spray across the seat. Running one hand up the curve of her waist, he rested his weight on the forearm behind her shoulders. His knee on the edge of the couch, Garrus shifted forward over her, aligning their bodies more fully as he reached for her hair. 

“Oww,” Shepard winced, one hand fisting in the collar of his tunic.

Garrus froze, fingers spread wide in the air, voice humming with uncertainty. 

“Crap. What did I do?” 

“Your hips.”

He tucked his chin to look down their bodies, which was distracting in itself, and saw that his right hip spur was clearly gouging hard into the curve of her hip. He tried to stand back up without hurting her further, but the arm around her back and her grip on his collar turned it into an awkward aborted movement that, nevertheless, let Shepard scoot back into a seated position in front of him. 

“Sorry Rhyver.”

“It’s okay, Garrus.” She reached down and slid the wine bottle over to the small table, then tugged him forward onto the couch. Shepard curled her naked legs beneath herself, catching his eyes as she twisted to sit sideways in his lap. He had occasionally held her through the nightmares like this, curled against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her automatically. 

It was different now, and she bent under his hands in a way that pressed her soft rear against his slit. Lust, passion, and devotion wove into a rich chorus of sounds, _cantica_ rolling through his chest. 

Shepard gasped in delight, sliding her hands up his neck, palms cradling either side of his face. She could hear every flare of his song, and he loved it.

“Spirits…” Garrus groaned, leaning his forehead against Shepard’s and sliding one hand up between her shoulder blades. “Rhyver, I just want this to go right,” he murmured. Their mouths were almost touching, and her lips were parted, warm breath mixing with his. This was not just two friends blowing off steam, and he knew it. He loved Rhyver with every fiber of who he was, and didn’t want sex to change that. The warm trill of it thrilled into his song as he acknowledged that love, along with an edge of worry.

“Promise me that we’ll be okay, no matter how badly this goes,” Garrus asked almost desperately. 

“Garrus, it’s us. Shepard and Vakarian.” Shepard said gently, and it was confidence and love he heard in her voice. “We are right together, no matter what. I can’t promise we’ll be the same--” her fingertips stroking between the plates of his neck emphasized her point, “but we’re good to the end, whatever that may be.” 

He hummed a warm, thankful acknowledgement and slid a hand to her waist, long fingers slipping under the wide belt-like wrap. Pressing his nose against hers again, he felt the long line of it across the ridges of his own and nibbled gently on her lower lip without using his teeth. Her response was to trace her tongue along the edge of his mouth plates, and the taste and scent of her was intoxicating. 

Eyes falling closed, he drew in a deep breath filled with the comforting sun-warmed stone scent that was uniquely her. They continued that way for a long few minutes, just soaking in the feeling of two bodies pressed close, the taste of each other’s mouths, the scent of their skin. 

Smooth strands brushed his fingers with a turn of Shepard’s head, and he traced his talons up the back of her neck, raking them gently through her hair. The strands had dried from her shower, parting and bending smoothly over his skin.

Shepard groaned softly in enjoyment, one hand moving up to stroke the length of Garrus’s fringe. “Tell me if I do anything you don’t want,” she murmured. Strong, battle-worn fingers wove between the spikes, stroking from his crest to wrap around the tips and back up again. Pleasure raced through him, dragging out a much deeper groan and driving him to scrape his talons along Shepard’s scalp, tangling his fingers in her soft brown hair.

Surprisingly, she leaned back into his grip, where another turian would often have ducked away from the rough treatment of their fringe. Opening his eyes, Garrus saw the lines of her throat bared invitingly. The narrow sleeve of her long tunic had fallen off one shoulder as well, and he slowly licked a long trail across her collarbone and up the column of her neck. She writhed against him, hips twisting as he held her head still. 

The sensations spiked his arousal, cock thickening rapidly behind the plates of his slit. Garrus nipped hard at Shepard’s throat, signalling that he wanted to move faster. She cried out in surprise and pain though, and he shuddered. 

“Raaagh…” he growled and buried his face against her marked neck, feeling her rapid heartbeat beneath the thin hide that he definitely should not have bitten so hard. He loosed his grip on her too, gently stroking her hair.

“Damn, Garrus. What was that for?” Shepard asked. Her voice sounded thick with lust though, and her hand stayed on the back of his neck.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” His subharmonics were laced with chagrin underneath the deep rumble of desire.

“It wasn’t that bad, honest.” She pressed her lips against the side of his neck, her chuckle vibrating through his plates. “I’m not surprised you’re fierce about sex as well, Garrus.” 

“Rhyver, if we don’t move a little faster I might actually go crazy,” Garrus blurted, his voice deep and rough, resonating with an edge of command. “I have been thinking about your hide against mine all week, and this clothing needs to go.” 

Her next laugh took on a sultry tone, and she firmly licked the softer skin between the plates of his throat. Then, Spirits save him, she bit his neck with all of the same fierce passion she showed on the battlefield. 

Garrus’s _cantica_ surged back to a roar of emotion, cock hard and nearly unplated in an instant. He honestly wasn’t quite ready for that, but the swell in Shepard’s scent as he slid one arm under her knees nearly undid him anyway. He stood, other arm wrapped around her waist, and strode to the bed. He set her down on the nearest edge, and she caught his waist with one hand as she settled herself. 

As good as her hands felt, he wanted nothing between them. Brushing her nose with his own, Garrus stepped back and rapidly removed his boots and tunic. He flexed his feet against the floor, talons catching the edges of tiles and grounding him. 

Shepard wasn’t undressing. Instead, she sat on the bed with her arm wrapped around one bent leg, watching him intently. That leg was completely bare, the fluid black tunic pooling between her thighs. The fabric drew his attention as he removed his pants, unbuckling the straps over his hips and spurs with automatic movements. 

Her scars drew his eye as well. A bright, offset orange line running the length of her thigh. A few lines angling across her calf, an angry corner visible on her chest where the shoulder strap fell away. Each mark was a reminder that he had lost her once, and that he never wanted to lose her again. 

Only his undershorts remained, and he hesitated. Shepard’s eyes roamed every line of him hungrily, so he stepped forward. He saw a challenge in the smile playing over her lips as she ran a hand down her own naked thigh. Tilting his head down posessively, he pinned her with a look. He recognized the invitation and had a dozen reasons to take it. 

Garrus dropped one hand on her very simple knee, sliding his hand slowly down the inside of her thigh as he knelt. The sound of her soft gasp and the scent of her arousal raised his own to a fevered pitch, and he tasted Shepard's scent as he laved his long, blue tongue up her thigh. He stroked the shallow curve of her waist with the other hand, fingers sliding impatiently under the ties of the garment. 

“May I?” Garrus asked, a growl of lust underscoring the impertinent question. He had never seen her completely naked, and he wanted to - all of him for all of her. 

Shepard nodded immediately, hands sliding restlessly over his arms as he tugged loose the tie and slid the hem completely up to her hips. He slipped his hands under her soft, smooth rear, lifting her just enough to slide the bottom of the tunic up over her stomach. 

It was too much. The raw scent of her filled his senses, and he could see the dampness of her slit on the small black triangle of her undershorts. Garrus darted in close, wrapping his left arm under her thigh and sliding his hand beneath the draped fabric to grip her bare waist. With his right he pulled aside the triangle to reveal a curled patch of brown hair trailing into her slit. He didn’t hesitate, stroking his tongue against her firmly, much as he would have any turian. They both moaned loudly at the sensations, his _cantica_ strong enough that it was vibrating his own keelbone, running smoothly down his chest to his own slit. Shepard rocked her hips in his grip, head thrown back, fingers kneading along his cowl. 

“Ohh, Garrus!” She cried out, and he hummed his own desire against the soft mound of her sex. He pressed his tongue along her slit again, feeling a firm nub near the apex and dipping into her core with a long, slow, stroke. His saliva mingled freely with her own musky wetness, making him very glad that neither of them were chiral-allergic. The antihistamine shots would have been worth it though, just for this.

Shepard’s small, blunt nails stroked a dozen places between his plates all at once, sliding up his neck and between the larger plates of his back and shoulders. He reveled in the play of her muscles beneath his hands, tightening and surging as he tasted her. She had her own slick folds that stiffened like his impatient cock, and he alternately curled his tongue firmly around them, or stroked deeply between, rocking his mouth plate firmly against her apex. 

She groaned his name again, and his instincts said she was lost in the sudden rush of pleasure he was filling her with. Garrus was no fledgling with his first mating. He knew, both from the extranet and his own experience with turian lovers, that he could carry Shepard to a peak just like this, and feel her pleasure crest against his tongue. 

So he did. The taut muscles of a warrior’s body trembled in his hands, her cries reached a fever pitch, and just as she arched into a tight bow of release, Shepard’s roaming fingers touched a small, rough patch of hide deep under his fringe - the _lubentia_. A warm rush of contentment flooded through him as she stroked the sensitive bundle of nerves, and he was suddenly gasping with her. He rode through her peak in a haze of desire and joy, tongue gently licking across her folds on instinct as she relaxed from the high. 

“Ohhhh, you have a talented tongue, Vakarian,” Shepard groaned breathily as he contentedly nuzzled the inside of her hip. 

“Mmmm… Rhyver.” His response was to incoherently murmur against her skin, mouth full of her taste. She gave a satisfied laugh that rolled through her body, sending a spike of lust through him at the feeling despite her steady strokes across his _lubentia._ It was hard to focus on anything besides her touch, as he hadn’t had anything other than friendly bouts of sex in nearly a decade. Being so openly vulnerable with someone simply wasn’t part of the protocol. 

The press of his erect cock against his undershorts caught up to him after a long moment though, and he took Shepard’s distracting hand, gently nibbling her wrist as he sat back. He tugged the wet undergarment down off her body as well, and dropped it beside the bed with his clothes. 

“Our research accomplished a few things, I see.” Shepard grinned impishly, propping herself on her hands, legs still spread before him. 

“I won’t accomplish much if you do that again though,” Garrus growled, subvocals rumbling freely through the room. “Too good, too relaxing,” he added at her quizzical look. 

She still quirked her lips into a satisfied smile though, and sat up. The black fabric of her long tunic draped haphazardly around her hips, and she crossed her arms strangely to gather it into her hands. The result was far from strange though, as she pulled the garment off over her head in one smooth undulation, baring her chest. A shake of her head swept her flexible hair over one shoulder, draped above her… breasts. The soft swells of tissue were called breasts, an erogenous zone for humans and asari. Hers were smaller than many, just enough to sway with her movements.

The tips of her breasts tightened into nubs as his eyes roamed her naked body, and she tossed the tunic off the end of the bed. Garrus stood, and his visor flickered with data as Shepard’s heart and breathing rates rose sharply. His erection stretched the fabric of his undershorts, pulling them low on his angular hips. Tasting her had pushed well past his ability to keep himself sheathed, and at this point he didn’t care. 

Shepard rose to her knees on the edge of the bed and beckoned Garrus closer. He stalked toward her and didn’t stop until they were pressed together, hands roaming freely, his _cantica_ singing through them both. She touched her forehead and mouth briefly to his, then nipped playfully along the edge of his unscarred mandible. 

He wanted to touch everywhere at once, and ran his hands restlessly from her ribs down over her waist, to grab the curve of her rear, to eagerly caress her muscled waist again. Shepard stroked relentlessly around his waist, fingers massaging the large patches of bare hide along his keelbone, which was a pale, silvered line against the slate grey of his hide. Her skin was a pink, sandy stone beside his. 

The fabric of his undershorts rubbed uncomfortably against his normally hidden cock, trapped between them. She ran her fingers under the straps over his hip spurs just then, rocking her hips forward. 

“No more clothing in the bed?” 

It seemed half question, half demand, and Garrus ducked his head to growl a “Please,” against her neck in response. He bit her shoulder gently this time, more to ground himself as she slid his undershorts off, tugging the wide waistband forward to free his straining erection. The shorts fell down his thighs and immediately caught on his leg spurs. 

Shepard kept one hand in the curve between his hips and waist, leaning back to scan down his naked body. Garrus had a few small plates edging the top and bottom of his slit, though not every turian did. His cock arched boldly out, the deep steel-blue color a sharp contrast to her flushed, sandy skin. He knew he was better than average for a turian, but had no idea how he compared to a human. He'd never really considered it, though at least he knew that human men _had_ cocks.

“Am I allowed in your bed now?” Garrus drawled, his voice low and confident… mostly. She seemed startled, lips parted, heart still racing according to his visor readout. A nervous whine edged its way back into his _cantica_ at Shepard’s lack of response. 

“Is a naked turian so strange, Rhyver?” He slowly stroked one talon along the lightly plated underside of his cock, watching her reaction. He ran his thumb around the broad, triangular tip, and the scent of his own sex filtered to his nose, joining Shepard's lingering musk to set his senses rolling with desire. 

Garrus trilled his relief when Shepard finally pulled at his hips, blowing out a long breath with a groan. 

“Damn, this is going to be an incredible ride,” Shepard said in a rush. 

He laughed, mandibles flaring into a cocky grin as he climbed toward her on the bed. 

Or rather, he tried to, but nearly fell into Shepard because of the tangle of undershorts she had slid down his legs. He growled at the fumble, catching his balance on the smooth curves of her hips. She was quick to realize the problem she’d caused, and then thoroughly distracted him by reaching down with her tiny, flexible toes to stretch the fabric over his leg spurs and allow him to step free. 

Shepard took advantage of the momentary distraction to dart away, pulling a familiar jar out of the drawer beside her bed. 

“Hmm… that would probably work fairly well to prevent… uhh…” Garrus trailed off as Shepard dipped her fingers into the turian salve that Mordin had synthesized several weeks back, after his incident with the thermal grease. She trailed a moist finger lightly down her chest, standing beside the bed, then smoothed her hand across her lower abdomen in a broad sweep of oil. The intense scent hit him, mixing with the smell of sex. 

_Yours,_ Garrus’s brain asserted. _Your scent and hers. Shepard and Vakarian..._ he stepped forward to wrap his arms around Shepard from behind. The soft pliability of her breast in his hand was startling, but he only had half a heartbeat to be concerned before Shepard’s round, squishy ass pinned his cock against his abdomen and his libido took back over with a deep, lusty growl. 

Shepard laughed warmly, tossing her head back against Garrus’s shoulder. “To prevent chafing? I swear, Mordin doesn’t miss a damn thing, does he?” She was looking up at him upside down, and he nuzzled her forehead and dipped his fingers into the salve, smoothing it slowly across the curves of her thighs. 

“Mmm…” Shepard arched into his hand, reaching one hand up to drag her fingers firmly down the back of his neck, pressing between the plates. Spirits, he was already darting his mouth down to lightly bite her neck, his _cantica_ a rising chorus, but then Shepard braced her ass against his hips and bent upward to press her lips to his mouth plates… upside down.

...He’d never think turians were flexible after this.

Vibrations of lust shot through Garrus’s keelbone to the base of his cock and he gave a low groan of pleasure. Shepard’s oiled thigh dimpled under Garrus’s blunted talons as she rolled her hips slowly in his grasp. He pressed against her from behind, a fascinating mix of hard muscle under soft skin keeping him pinned. He’d barely had time to wonder what thrusting between the mounds of her rear would feel like when Shepard slid her lips over the long tip of his scarred mandible, sucking lightly. 

“Unnnghh…” Garrus’s _cantica_ flared wildly with need, powerful notes reverberating off the wall in front of them. Shock and pleasure hardened his aching erection further, tightening the edges of his tip. Spirits, he had expected her to avoid his scars, not lavish them with hot, open-mouthed kisses. 

Garrus nuzzled Shepard’s neck just below her ear, hand roaming up into the joint of her thigh as he inhaled deeply. The scent of hot desire on her was new and powerful. That should mean this was going as well for her as it was for him, he hoped. They continued exploring this position, his hands sliding over Shepard’s shallow curves, and her grip on his cowl for leverage was nearly driving him over the edge.

“Can I take this off?” 

“Mmmm…” Shepard’s quiet question took a moment to register, interrupting the mental image of his silvery seed sprayed across her naked back. 

Her brown eyes were half closed, lips parted with the question, but her fingers tapped lightly against his visor. Shepard’s elevated pulse and breathing flashed, overlain in his vision in glowing orange atop her breasts. 

“Oh. Ohh! Yes. Wait, let me do it.” Well that was awkward. Garrus reluctantly freed one hand from roaming her stomach to shut down his visor, confirming the command twice with embedded security codes. No one was _ever_ hacking his targeting system again. 

Shepard was leaning her whole body back against his, looking up to watch his movements. Garrus tugged the visor off his head, sweeping it sideways to avoid his fringe...and Shepard’s fingers stroking the back of his neck. 

“Mmm, think you can still hit my targets without your visor, ‘Archangel’?” She teased, arching her back again. 

“Oh I’ll make sure you never doubt my aim after tonight, ‘Commander,’ ” Garrus growled against her neck, lightly stung pride rumbling down his keel. He set the visor on her nightstand, wrapped his left arm around her waist, and rolled them both onto the bed. Shepard’s quick peal of laughter belied the speed with which she twisted in Garrus’s arms, lean body straddling him after one roll. Her grip on his cowl was firm, his on her solid waist.

Before he could comment, her mouth was on his neck again, blunt teeth grazing roughly along the edges of plates, lips soft against scarred flesh. His keel vibrated with his desire… the desire to be _hers._ No one was better than Commander Shepard. _His_ Shepard. 

“Rhyver…” Garrus groaned her name as she bit the soft grey-brown hide of his throat. They had tumbled near the edge of the bed, so he dropped his head back, baring his neck in wanton invitation, eyes closed. Shepard took full advantage, a raw groan accompanying the next firm bite, sound vibrating against his skin. 

Spirits, he was so vulnerable, laid out beneath her. It was so good. So deep, the rumble of desire through his _cantica,_ desire for all of this… Shepard shifted her hips in his hands and settled her hot, wet opening over his shaft. He thrust his hips, thickened base brushing against her. 

“Oohh!” Shepard gasped, voice rising as she rocked against him. She dragged her fingers firmly down his chest. Something shifted in her movement, suddenly becoming awkward as she kneed him in the thigh. He heard the frustration in her groan as clearly as if she’d been turian, and lifted his head. 

Garrus scanned down their naked bodies, searching out the problem. Shepard’s hips were splayed wide over his own, with one knee up and the other down, against his thigh. His hip spurs were pressed into the bed...and curved toward her, preventing her from easily straddling him. He just grinned, mandibles flaring wide as he slid a hand down her thigh and sat up, flipping them effortlessly, laying Shepard onto her back beneath him. 

“I’ve been looking forward to having your legs around my waist, Rhyver,” Garrus’s _cantica_ rumbled with his hunger as he snugged Shepard’s leg into the crook of his hip. The joint flared outward, giving just enough room for her leg to slide free. He wrapped one hand around the back of her neck and let her pull him into a kiss, tongues tangling as he lifted her other leg up high around his ribs. 

Shepard squeezed the leg around Garrus’s waist, pressing his erection against herself and moaning against his mouthplates. 

“Ohh, Garrus please…” She took him in hand, fingers sliding briefly over the light sheen of his own natural lubricant. “You feel so good… You sound so good…” Her other hand was splayed across the center of his chest, pressing against the firm ridge of his keel. He could feel the soft nub of her apex against the soft hide of his tip, and Shepard’s face was hot, flushed with want. Wanting him.

Garrus wanted her, and the raw harmony of it was rolling smoothly from his chest. He leaned back, sharp eyes on his partner’s face as he slid slowly across Shepard’s slit. She groaned and bucked up against him when his tip dipped into the dripping opening. He sunk his broad, triangular tip into her wet slit, a few shallow, controlled thrusts pulling panting, eager sounds from Shepard's parted lips. He pressed inside her, feeling her spread. So smooth, so slick. He was so hard he could feel the thin plates along the underside of his cock. 

Shepard tightened the leg slung over his hip, encouraging him deeper. Garrus leaned in, bringing his whole body close against hers as he sheathed himself slowly inside her. Seeing his long, blue cock disappear inside Shepard's snug, cool cunt was one of the most erotic things had ever done.

"Spirits, Rhyver…" Garrus's _cantica_ surged with the sound of his pleasure. "Is this still good?" Shepard's cheeks were flushed, and the soft moans and cries she made were nearly as expressive as a turian's song, but he was still learning what they meant. 

"Ohh… So good, Garrus." Shepard shifted her hips so that her apex pressed against the small plates at the top of his slit, biting her lower lip with a lusty groan as the vibrations of his _cantica_ rolled into her intimately. 

Shepard whimpered and gasped, arching against Garrus as he started to move again, but the fingers kneading his neck were still clear encouragement. He shifted how her left leg draped over his arm, marveling again at how flexible she was, and smoothly thrust into her a few times at this new angle. Oh Spirits, her voice rose with each beat, his plates barely breaking contact with her apex, and she tightened around him with a sudden cry of pleasure. The pressure on his waist from her leg increased, and he groaned into one more short thrust before shuddering through his _primo,_ coming hard. 

They just breathed for a long moment, shifting gently against each other with soft groans. Shepard gripped his crest and neck, pressing her temple tight against his. All other things aside, Garrus definitely hadn’t expected the physical side of their intimacy to go quite this well, but they were figuring out each other’s bodies quickly. By the time they were finished… Why was his face wet? 

Garrus pulled back from Shepard enough to see her face, and the combination of tears and satisfied, adoring smile made no sense. He tensed in confusion, one arm wrapped behind her shoulders, erect cock still buried inside her. The uncertain waver of emotion hit his _cantica,_ and Shepard laughed softly. 

“Rhyver, why are you crying? What’s wrong?” Garrus asked quickly. 

Shepard pressed one hand against the center of his chest, overtop the narrow ridge of his keelbone. “You say so much, Garrus” she whispered, “I just hope that I’m hearing it all right.” 

Reflecting on the tangle of lust, contentment, eagerness, and uncertainty rolling through his _cantica_ , which was obviously what Rhyver was focused on, he smoothed the pads of his fingers across the muscles of her shoulder. A high, warm, trill rang out clearly as well, a strong emotion he typically held tightly in check, even to himself. 

“I love you too.” Shepard pressed a gentle kiss to his mouth plates, lightly caressing his fringe. 

Garrus leaned in so that his chest touched hers, fully hide to hide, and nuzzled into her throat. “You hear right, Rhyver, and you are the most incredible person I’ve ever met.” He very deliberately rocked his hips back and thrust slowly back into her, _cantica_ singing freely of his love. “And if it’s alright, I’d like to explore this…” Shepard’s touch on his fringe intensified as he thrust into her again, “...connection we have a bit more.” 

Shepard’s warm, appreciative chuckle was deep enough to add its own vibration through Garrus’s keelbone, and he nipped her shoulder. He really did have a thing for Shepard’s neck and shoulders. It was a mix of turian customs and human vulnerability, he figured, and he felt a little guilty at enjoying the possessive marks his teeth had already left on her thinner skin. 

“Gods, Garrus, you’re still hard!” She met his next thrust with her own, and a surprised gasp. “I thought I felt you finish.” 

“Finish?” It was clear from context what Shepard meant, and Garrus’s voice was full of confidence and a bit of cocky pride. “With you, I’m ready for at least two or three times today.” He paused in the middle of licking a long line up her neck, and pulled back enough to meet her eyes again. “Wait, are you okay with more? Do humans usually stop after one round?” 

“Most men don’t really last long enough for multiple rounds, in my very limited experience.” Shepard hadn’t stopped stroking his fringe, so Garrus continued rocking her hips with his slow, steady thrusts. “Or they don’t care.” 

A short, snorting chuckle of disbelief interrupted her. “Well I definitely care. Even if we were just blowing off steam, I’d want you to enjoy yourself. Damn, especially then.” Shepard dug her tiny toes into the back of his thigh, right leg still snugly locked in against his waist over his hip spur. Garrus groaned. That felt really good, but also very different from another turian’s hard talons. “This seems like a ‘yes’ to another round, Rhyver.”

“Oh, hell yes!” She hesitated, then nipped playfully at his unscarred mandible. “But I’ll admit that this is new territory, and not just because you’re a turian. Most of my experience was other young recruits in the academy, or occasionally meeting up with a friend on shore leave. Not with someone I’ve fought and slept beside for months, Garrus.” She darted one hand out to the jar of salve on the bedside table, nudging at him and curving her back so that she could spread the lubricant across their abdomens and the inside of her thighs. 

The lusty growl Garrus let loose at her firm touch across his hide could probably be heard in the rooms below, and by all the stars he was glad to already be hilt deep inside her. The sheen of scented oil let his hide slide easily against hers, and he immediately increased the pace and length of his thrusts. Sliding nearly his entire length out until her slit was tight behind the head of his cock, he angled so the thin plates on the underside of his shaft pressed firmly against her walls on every stroke. 

Long, warrior’s fingers, slick with oil, ran between the spikes of his fringe so intimately that he lost himself in the pace of their bodies. He joined his tongue to their firm, steady thrusts, tracing long lines across Shepard’s collarbone, along the strong lines of her neck and jaw. They hit a good stride together quickly, her gasps turning into deeper groans and panting grunts of pleasure from them both. 

It was deep, the passion between them, and Garrus pressed his forehead to Shepard’s. Her brown hair was splayed beneath his hand on the pillow, her eyes half-lidded. Her short tongue darted across her lips, wetting them between panting breaths. They were both lasting longer this time, a bit sated from his first round, but his tight, controlled muscles were threatening to stutter and drop him into a well of pleasure at any moment. 

“Garrus, please,” Shepard groaned, licking her lips again and dragging her fingers down the plates of his neck. 

He didn’t know what she needed from him, and doubted she did either. A week’s curious searching on the extranet couldn’t possibly provide a life’s experience with another species’ sexual desires… but Garrus did have experience with one thing that mattered more. He knew Shepard, and had loved her for a long time. Whether it was his Black Widow rifle over her shoulder or his plated blue cock in her cunt, he trusted his instincts… so he did something that he never would have done with another turian. 

He traced the edge of Shepard’s soft lower lip with his tongue, then licked boldly into her mouth. Her whole body arched when he traced the roof of her mouth, hips urging him faster as she met his tongue with her own. It was not completely unlike taking someone’s slit with your mouth, and his partner’s enthusiastic response and lack of sharp teeth made it more than enjoyable. 

“Rhyver…” Garrus moaned against her lips. “Oh, Shepard...” 

Shepard’s voice rose through the quicker thrusts, and Garrus was nearly spent. He leaned into her again, muscles of her cunt clenching around his short strokes, apex rubbing firmly against his plates. She kept baring her throat to him, and he closed his mouth over the same place he’d first bitten earlier. 

Shepard arched off the bed with a cry as she crested, limbs tight around him. Garrus rode the next few strokes on the edge, pleasure filling his _cantica_ with a roar until it spilled out of him in an explosive rush. 

Deep, shuddering breaths were the only sound or movement for a long few moments.

Eventually, Shepard gave a deep, satisfied stretch and nudged Garrus to roll onto his side. He complied with a groan, keeping one arm beneath Shepard’s shoulders but releasing her leg completely. She just rolled with him though, right leg trapped beneath him in the crook of his waist, the other draped over his thigh. He dropped his free arm bonelessly over her waist and opened one eye. She was watching him through half-lidded eyes, both hands resting on his chest. 

They stayed like that until their breathing and his _cantica_ returned to normal, the low rumble of contentment that was always present when Shepard was around overlain with the warm trill of love that he had no chance of keeping from his voice right now. Not that he wanted to, lying naked in her arms, watching a slow smile spread across her face as she listened to his song.


	3. Consequences

“Pretty good tiebreaker,” Shepard murmured impishly. 

“Yeah… definitely,” Garrus agreed sluggishly. He felt completely sated and at ease, in a way that he hadn’t since... “Wait, this wasn’t actually supposed to be a tiebreaker for something, was it? ‘Cause I’ll freely admit you’re more flexible. And daaaamn you can put it to good use in bed,” he drawled. He mostly saw her strength and speed on the battlefield, not the agility she clearly had as well.

“Does that mean I win, then?” Shepard leaned up on her elbow, freeing his hand to run up and down over her ribs. It also clearly highlighted the blossoming bite marks along her neck and shoulder. 

“Hmm, by what standards? I took you to a crest three times in less than an hour,” Garrus teased, voice sinking low. “Sounds like a victory for me.” He still had to figure out what to say about the territorial marks on her throat. What would she think? 

“Mmmm, that you did.” Shepard laughed softly, and if her face hadn’t still been flushed from sex, he thought she would have blushed. “But from the feel of it, you’re backing out on round three.” She rocked her hips against his, emphasizing that his softened cock had retreated within his slit, loosely sheathed. 

“If you want round three…” Garrus slid a hand over Shepard’s rear to the back of her thigh and teased one long, thick finger along her wet slit. “We can go for round three, and four…” She gasped and twisted against him with nowhere to go. He flicked one mandible dismissively. “It wouldn’t take me that long, Shepard.” 

“I concede! We need to be able to walk once we get through that relay.” 

Her response was light, but it was also a reminder of the harsh reality they were living in. A self-satisfied tone rippled through his  _ cantica _ anyway, and Garrus slid his hand away from Shepard’s slit with deliberate slowness. She fiercely pressed her forehead to his, and he tilted his head to nuzzle her lips in a more thorough approximation of a human kiss, mandibles brushing against her jaw on either side.

“You didn’t say anything about your own past experiences earlier,” Shepard asked after a soft moment, redirecting the conversation. They still had close to an hour before the Normandy reached the Omega 4 relay, though some of that time would need to be spent armoring up for the inevitable fight on the other side.

Garrus’s subvocals flared with surprise. “Do you really want to know? I thought most humans were ‘sticks up their ass’ when it came to talking about sex?” Shepard burst out laughing, breasts bouncing as she fell back away from him to lie on the rumpled bed. “What?” 

“Damn, that phrase actually works too, Garrus, but most people wouldn’t say it quite that way.” She was still laughing, hands on her stomach. “It sounds rather raunchier when you’re discussing a stick up your ass with sex.” 

“Hmm. I’m going to assume this is a human thing,” Garrus said after a moment’s reflection, “because turians don’t put anything in our asses. And I’ll admit to having seen some fairly… was the word ‘raunchy’? ...things over the years, between C-Sec and the military.”

“So share.” Shepard shrugged. She wasn’t trying to look sexy right then, he knew, but she was. Her hair was flared wildly over the blanket, her face flushed and happy, and her right leg was still tucked in the crook of his hip spur, splaying her legs wide. Her scent lacked the overwhelming draw it held earlier only because they both now smelled the same, and probably would for hours - as mates should. He seriously owed Mordin another thanks for that salve, Garrus mused, letting his gaze roam appreciatively. 

“I could tell crazy sex stories for at least an hour, sweetie, but most of them wouldn’t be mine.” Garrus tucked two pillows under his head so that he could relax and still stay on his side. 

“I didn’t tell you crazy stories either, honey,” Shepard emphasized the sweet word teasingly, “I just gave you a bit of my story. Humor me.” She rolled back toward him, but left the gap that formed. 

“Hmm, that’s fair.” Garrus toyed with her hair, dangling down to coil loosely on the bed. “There hadn’t been anyone special since I was 19. Ranni had been my partner throughout boot camp, and we had been through everything fledglings do when they finally start growing up.” He chuckled knowingly at the memory. “But she was a pilot, and we ended up on different paths… I guess it could have worked out, but neither of us kept in touch. No idea where she is now.” 

“I can understand that,” Shepard added with a wry chuckle. “I had an older girlfriend in the Academy who just… disappeared from my life when she got her commission.” 

“We’re all young once.” Garrus tangled the long brown strands between his fingers. “Then we grow up and hope that one of those times we find a partner to enjoy a fun night with, it eventually turns into something else.” He shrugged one shoulder, a non-turian gesture he’d picked up on the Citadel a long time ago. “There were a few people I blew off steam with on various military assignments… fewer at C-Sec… one of my contacts on Omega, occasionally. Men and women, but all turians.”

“And now there’s us,” Shepard added.

“Shepard and Vakarian, taking on rogue spectres, collectors, interspecies sex, and whatever else the universe throws our way!” 

They both laughed, settling back into an easy silence. 

“Oh, the wine!” Shepard exclaimed, patting Garrus’s chest companionably. “Do we want to try it now?” 

“Sure, I’ll get it.” It took Garrus a moment to disentangle himself from Shepard and retrieve the bottle from near the couch. He pulled the ring on the silicone cork, sliding it out with a satisfying pop. He sniffed the bottle as he sat on the edge of the bed. “It smells… like wine.” Shepard laughed at him. “Hey, it’s wine, it smells fruity, and we can both drink it,” he retorted mildly. 

“I’m sure it’s wonderful,” Shepard replied with a grin, curled up against the pillows. “Did you get the glasses or are we a ‘straight from the bottle’ outfit today?” 

Garrus took a sip from the bottle. “It’s not half as bad as I figured.” He held it toward Shepard with a quizzical flutter of his mandibles. “Bottle?” 

The face Shepard made after taking a drink indicated ‘wonderful’ wasn’t exactly what she thought anymore, but she took a second drink as he settled in beside her. “I need to find us a good dural-chirality beer to try, Garrus.” 

“I bet Kasumi knows one.”

“You’re probably right, she’s always mixing unrecognizable drinks at the bar and testing them out with Tali.” 

The two of them traded the bottle and old stories for another 30 minutes or so, enjoying each other’s company in a few moments of comparative peace. Given the size of the bottle and the experience of the drinkers, neither was particularly worried about getting drunk, though they were soon pleasantly fuzzy. Shepard had settled herself on top of Garrus, casually draped across his stomach and chest, resting between his legs so that he could have all of the pillows. 

A sharp ping sounded over the ship’s comms, a direct message to Shepard’s quarters. She buried her face into Garrus’s stony chest with a muffled curse. “Yes?” 

“Apologies, but you’re needed on the bridge, Commander.” Joker’s often jovial voice sounded suitably regretful at disturbing her, not that it mattered one cracked credit. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

The jumbled, frustrated protest Shepard growled into Garrus’s chest was apparently audible through the comms. 

“Uhh, Commander?” Joker asked with atypical uncertainty.

“She’ll be there in five, Joker.” Garrus called out.

“Ah. Thanks, big guy.” They could hear the grin in his voice.

Shepard swatted Garrus’s stomach in mock anger as she climbed off the bed. They both started pulling on clothing with military swiftness, with Shepard directing him to a spare set of his underarmor that he’d forgotten was in here, so that he didn’t have to dress twice. 

“We wouldn’t have had much more time anyway,” Garrus said quietly, tossing her a set of thin socks from a drawer. They’d dressed together many times, it just didn’t usually start with them naked. For his part, Garrus pulled on his undershorts and pants, then helped Shepard. Between the two of them, she was dressed and half-armored in three minutes. 

“Rhyver, you should know - I left bite marks on your neck,” Garrus brushed a knuckle over the clearly patterned skin as Shepard twisted her long brown hair into a flat dome on top of her head. Several of his tooth marks had already flared to deep purple bruises, and the chagrin in his  _ cantica _ was obvious. Guilt, but not really regret, though he wasn’t sure she would know what the difference sounded like. “It’s not something I would ever do with a casual partner, and that’s a widely known turian custom. If you’re not okay with it, I’m sorry. I don’t regret it-” he said with conviction, “but I should have...” 

Shepard stopped him with a hand over his mouth. “One- I love you and trust you. Everyone can know that. End of story. Two- You also just answered the comms from my quarters. And if we need a three-” She pressed her forehead fiercely to his. “Anyone who tries to tell me who to spend my time with can go jump out an airlock.” 

All of the pride and love he felt for Shepard flared into his subvocals, and she grinned, turning to head out the door. “See you on the other side of the Relay.”

\---

Jacob gave Shepard an odd look as she refilled her spare ammunition pockets in the armory after dealing with the minor crisis on the bridge regarding strategies for using the Normandy’s stealth systems. 

“Is everything alright, Commander?” Jacob asked, checking the snap locks on his pistol scope. “You have some odd marks on your neck. Looks like bruises.” All of the self-important immaturity that he had managed to put into nearly every conversation with her was clear in the tone of his voice. 

“Oh, Garrus was feeling a bit expressive today, that’s all,” Shepard said casually, as though they’d been mates for months, not hours. “Turians don’t exactly hide their emotions, especially not when it comes to their partners.” 

The shock and xenophobic mortification on Jacob’s face made up for every time she’d had to rebuff his unwanted flirtations and stuffy comments. 

Shepard snagged one more heat sink for her heavy pistol and walked out of the armory and into the science lab. Mordin took one look at her and the sharp old salarian just chuckled, returning her wordless hug. 


End file.
